Journeys of the Heart Collection

By Verna Clay

Violet Hailey, unwed mother of six year old Priscilla, longs to begin life anew after selling her family farm to the Railroad Commission. To that end, under the guise of being a widow, she travels to Independence, Missouri to join up with a wagon train bound for New Mexico Territory, via the Santa Fe Trail. However, a few days into her journey, she realizes she has been duped in the purchase of her wagon, when it breaks down and cannot be repaired. She is faced with a decision to either forego the dictates of society by sharing the wagon of an unmarried man, or depart the train in the next town.

Priscilla Hailey Johansson, daughter of Violet Hailey from book one, is grown up and anticipating her life as a teacher in her small community outside of Santa Fe, in New Mexico Territory. She also hopes to one day marry and raise a family there. When she receives an invitation to join the prestigious Stratford Girl's Academy in St. Louis, Missouri, however, she embarks on a future she never envisioned. Arriving at the St. Louis train station, she is met by Brentley Stratford, the stepson of Mrs. Olivia Stratford, the grand lady who founded the academy. The gentleman is so elegant and handsome that he takes her breath away.

Samuel Johansson is blindsided when his twin brother, Saul, confesses to having advertised for a mail order bride, but now wants to renege on his offer of marriage. Apparently, he has reconnected with his childhood sweetheart and finds himself in a pickle--his mail order bride arrives in two days. When Saul asks Samuel to marry her in his stead, Samuel's response is an unqualified NO. However, when he meets the lady everything changes. His rescue instinct begs to differ with his rational mind.

Five years after the woman Saul Johansson had expected to spend his life with rejected him and married a wealthy Santa Fe businessman, he meets the spinster who just opened a bookstore in his town. Undeniably, the lady is not his type, but something about her keeps drawing him back to her shop. Could it be their common enjoyment of dime novels filled with action and adventure, or something more? Saul's life is about to become complicated when the woman who rejected him, now a widow, moves back to town and sets her sights on him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Verna Clay
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005479893

Verna Clay

"2020 Finalist - Readers' Favorite International Contest (Paranormal Romance) for SOMEWHERE by the Sea.""2014 Gold Medal Winner - Readers' Favorite International Contest (Historical Romance) for Abby: Mail Order Bride."My perfect day: coffee shop; laptop; latte; characters demanding their stories be told; a plot that comes together; and hours to live in an alternate reality.Seriously, I have always loved reading, and now I love writing. As a preteen, I devoured Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys Mysteries. When I reached my teen years, the romance genre became my favorite and that has never changed. After years of procrastinating, I tried my hand at writing and I've been doing so with a passion ever since. I have written over thirty romance novels and novellas in the genres of contemporary, contemporary western, historical western, fantasy, and paranormal. Because I hate saying goodbye to characters who have lived with me for months, I usually create a series so they can be revisited from book to book. I have also written a Young Adult novella titled "Fragile Hearts" using the pen name of Colleen Clay.

Book preview

Violet's Vindication

Journeys of the Heart

Book One

Verna Clay

"You don’t need scores of suitors.

You need only one…

If he’s the right one."

Louisa May Alcott (Little Women)

Note for Violet's Vindication

In this novelette, I have highlighted some of the historic stops along the Santa Fe Trail traveled during the years of 1821 to 1880. In 1880, the completion of the railroad forever changed the landscape and era of wagon trains trekking the west. The year I chose for my adventure is 1867.

The beginning of the trail was in Old Franklin, Missouri and the ending in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The five states it traversed were Missouri, Colorado, Kansas, Oklahoma, and New Mexico. Of course, during 1867, Colorado, Oklahoma, and New Mexico were still Territories.

The trail was approximately 900 miles long and had two routes: Mountain Route and Cimarron Cutoff Route. The mountain route, considered safer, took about ten days longer to travel than the Cimarron route through the desert. The shorter distance, however, was often fraught with Indian and outlaw attacks, and water scarcity.

The hero of this story, Theodore Johansson, and heroine, Violet Hailey, are forced into close proximity when Violet's wagon breaks down and is not repairable. The wagon master, Major Mendez, forces her into a decision—either forego the dictates of society by sharing the wagon of an unmarried man or depart the wagon train in the next town. And although she decides to continue to Santa Fe, she finds Mr. Johansson—TJ to his fellow travelers—uncouth and rude.

Table of Contents

Violet's Vindication

Note for Violet's Vindication

1: Despair

2: Council Grove

3: Fort Zarah

4: Decision

5: Escort

6: Bullseye

7: Fort Larned

8: Confrontation

9: Getting Out of Dodge

10: Indian Mound

11: Bent's New Fort

12: Raton Pass

13: Enough!

14: Not the End of the Trail

1: Despair

Violet Hailey was mortified. Not only had her prairie schooner died a horrible death when the axle split into three pieces—with no resurrection possible—but she'd been forced to sell her oxen to fellow travelers. Of course, she'd kept her old gelding, Barry, who was now tied to the back of the wagon she was walking beside.

After inspection of her schooner by wagon master Major Mendez, who had proclaimed repair was impossible, Violet and her six year old daughter Priscilla, nicknamed Punkin' since birth, had been forced to abandon their schooner on the Santa Fe Trail and forego most of their belongings. And, as if that wasn't horrendous enough, they'd had to accept charity from Mr. Theodore Johansson, a cantankerous cowboy who obviously wasn't happy about sharing his wagon with the widow and her daughter. Conventional wisdom dictated that the Major's order was highly improper, but he had been adamant that under certain circumstances societal rules were irrelevant.

Although Violet knew he was correct, her pride still stung from his curt issuance that she be placed under the care of Mr. Johansson. And Mr. Johansson's obvious distaste of the arrangement exacerbated her mortification. She was not one to accept charity. But the trail boss' edicts were law among the pioneers. Any refusal on her part would have mandated that she be unloaded at the next stop on their journey of nine hundred miles.

Only ten days earlier after leaving Independence, Missouri and posing as a widow, Violet had stoically driven her oxen one hundred miles and, although difficult, managed them rather well. That is, until her schooner began falling apart. And now, thinking back on her purchase of the wagon in Independence, she realized she'd been duped. At the time, she'd marveled at the reasonable price and assurances by a kind-faced, wizened old man that the schooner could withstand several trips to New Mexico Territory with no issues. Ha!

Violet's parents had always insisted that their daughter was too gullible and they'd been proven right yet again. Silently, she berated herself for being such a nitwit. Thinking about her mother and father, though, brought tears to her eyes. Their deaths during an influenza epidemic two years earlier were pains yet to heal.

After their passing, Violet, a tall, large-boned, and robust woman had continued working the small farm she'd grown up on until drought had decimated her savings and put her farm into foreclosure. When the bank refused to extend her yearly payment, she'd had no alternative but to sell and move on with her daughter.

Seven years earlier she'd also had to move on, not physically, but mentally and emotionally after falling in love with Jeremy Matthews and giving her body to him outside of marriage. When she'd told him of her pregnancy, his pronouncements of love had suddenly ceased, as had his presence. Her lovely vision for their future had evaporated on the day he'd denied the child was his and said he was leaving to join the bluecoats. Her dream of building a home with a husband on her parents' land, while working the soil together and raising a family, had died a painful and sorrowful death. Months later, after her daughter was born, she'd learned of Jeremy's demise on the battlefield. Sadly, his death had been devastating to any hope she'd secretly harbored about his return and newfound love for her and their child.

But she'd stoically continued raising Punkin' with the encouragement of her parents, whose love for their granddaughter and daughter never wavered, even though several neighbors and townsfolk had ostracized them because Violet was now and forever a fallen woman.

After the death of her parents, Violet still hadn't caved to the loneliness and desperation continually pounding on the door of her emotions. Hard work, early nights, early mornings, and caring for her little girl left little time to feel sorry for one's self. Even when the bank collector came knocking for the yearly payment and threatened foreclosure, she had done what her mother was wont to say when times were tough and hitched up her pants.

Shortly before foreclosure became inevitable, however, she'd heard rumors that the railroad commission was scouting nearby, with an eye on expansion, and sought out their representative. The price she'd negotiated after much haggling wasn't as much as she'd wanted, but it was satisfactory for beginning a new life. In fact, after the sale, she'd felt a momentary burst of excitement at leaving the place of heartache behind.

But now, losing her schooner seemed the last straw after losing Jeremy, her parents, her land and home, and finally, her pride. She just wanted to curl into a ball and give up, but for the sake of her child she couldn't do that.

For two hours she sniffed back tears while walking alongside Mr. Johansson's wagon and listening to Punkin's encouragement. Her daughter, sitting on the tailgate with her feet dangling over the edge, said, Mama, don't be sad. At least we got to keep your hope chest with all of Grammy's pretty needlework and quilts and Pop's old rifle. But best of all we have your drawings.

Violet swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to sound heartened with her reply, How did I get blessed with such a smart daughter? You're right, Punkin'; we'll have plenty to decorate our new home with. Her answer seemed to placate her child who was hugging her only rag doll to her chest.

Without success, Violet tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she trudged alongside cranky Mr. Johansson's wagon.

2: Council Grove

It wasn't that Theodore Johansson, nicknamed TJ by his handful of friends, was against helping others, it was just that he didn't like having it forced on him. Granted, he was the best selection for assisting the widow and her daughter, but Major Mendez' command hadn't set well with him. Being raised by a ruthless father, who always bellowed orders and followed them up with beatings, hadn't resulted in TJ having a jovial attitude toward life. And serving as a bluecoat in the War of the States with officers continually shouting orders, and then his own rise to the rank of Captain, necessitating the issuance of his own commands, was the final straw.

After the war and his release from the military, he'd roamed through several New England states, the central northern portion of the United States, and even into Canada, but the tales of New Mexico Territory had finally landed him on this wagon train bound for Santa Fe.

The train was expected to arrive in Council Grove, Kansas by nightfall and the pioneers would stock up on supplies before continuing onward. TJ grunted. By taking on some of the widow's belongings his wagon was now tending toward overload. He'd stocked his schooner with her dry goods and had wanted to leave her trunk behind, but when she'd started blinking back tears, he'd gritted his teeth, cussed under his breath, and said to the men helping him, Load the damn thing.

The way he figured it, when they reached Council Grove he'd purchase a couple of extra bottles of whiskey to stash for the trip, and then find a saloon and play a few hands of poker while the widow and her daughter slept in his wagon.

By the time the caravan arrived at a campsite outside of Council Grove for a two day respite, Violet's feet were burning from the long walk. Having driven her own wagon before its demise, she wasn't used to all the walking and could now feel blisters covering her feet. About eight miles back when the train had halted on Major Mendez' order for whatever reason, Mr. Johansson had climbed down from the driver's box to inspect his wagon and gruffly say, Miz Hailey, you best sit with your daughter or you may not be able to walk tomorrow.

Although the man's words had seemed reasonable, Violet was still bristling. She didn't like the cowboy or his fake politeness after hearing him tell the men to load the damn thing, referring to her precious trunk.

Responding to his suggestion that she join her daughter on the tailgate, she'd replied, I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Johansson.

He'd shrugged, shaken his head, and said, Don't say I didn't warn you.

His response had angered her even more and she'd stubbornly continued trekking beside the wagon. And now, as they prepared their campsite, she could barely place one foot in front of the other. Her daughter hopped off the back of the wagon and said, Mama, can I play with Sally Sue? She's only five wagons behind ours.

Sharply, Violet replied, No. We've got to start supper and I have no idea where Mr. Johansson keeps his pans and supplies.

Punkin's hurt expression was enough to pierce Violet's heart and she immediately regretted her harsh tone. Inhaling deeply to calm her taunt emotions, she said, You can visit for a few minutes, but then I need your help preparing supper.

Punkin' shuffled her feet. No, Mama, I'll stay and help you.

Her daughter's words made Violet feel even worse. Wincing from the pain in her feet, and the pain in her heart, she knelt and hugged her little girl. Honey, really it's okay. Go say hello to your new friend. I won't need your help until I've checked everything out.

Her child's face brightened. Okay, Mama, I'll be right back.

Violet watched Punkin' skip away and felt marginally better until she turned to see Mr. Johansson watching her. He didn't say anything and neither did she. Holding back a whimper from the pain, she stepped to the tailgate of the wagon and stared blindly inside. Could she even make supper?

Mr. Johansson said, Your feet are swollen and they hurt like hell, don't they?

His rude comment laced with profanity gave her a momentary burst of courage and she indignantly replied, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using profanity, Mr. Johansson. She inhaled and continued, I don't like our situation any more than you do, but we have a long journey ahead and I will uphold my part of the workload. I–

Mr. Johansson interrupted her by removing his cowboy hat, dusting it on his thigh, and saying, Respectfully, ma'am, you won't be doing any work if you can't walk.

Violet's eyes widened as dust from the man's hat swirled upward in a slight breeze. He had no couth whatsoever. She took a step backward, but when her foot hit the ground she yelped and started to topple. Her feet felt as swollen as the puffer fish she had read about.

Before she hit the ground, Mr. Johansson swooped in and caught her by the waist, forcing her against his body, and since she was as tall as he, her face came within inches of his. She gasped and placed her hands on his chest, forcefully pushing backward. He was strong, however, and refused to let go. There was anger in his voice when he said low, You may be used to doing things your way, but now that you're traveling with me, I'm in charge. Then he bodily lifted her by the waist and planted her derriere on the back of the tailgate.

Shocked and mortified, Violet glanced past his shoulder to see Mrs. Pickering and her teenage daughter, Petunia, staring at them with their mouths agape.

Mr. Johansson stepped back, turned around to see who or what Violet was staring at, and then reached for his hat on the ground. He plopped it on his head and tipped it toward the ladies. Ma'am and ma'am, he said before turning to face Violet again. Now Miz Hailey, let's see what kind of damage your stubbornness has done to your feet.

Violet was shocked into silence when Mr. Johansson lifted her right foot and began unlacing her boot. Even though he was gentle, she had to focus all of her attention on not crying out from the pain. Finally, the ties were loosened and his gaze met hers.

Ready? he asked.

Concern for her feet momentarily quelled her anger. She held her breath and nodded.

Slowly, he pulled her lace-up boot off and the relief she felt was short lived when she saw how swollen her foot was.

Mr. Johansson started working on the left boot and when he'd pulled it off, he said, I'm going to check on the oxen, and while I'm gone, take your stockings off. We'll have to drain the blisters and put salve on them.

Before she could respond, he was gone. Gritting her teeth, Violet began removing her stockings that were stuck to her feet and ankles in some places. As she methodically worked at freeing her feet, she berated herself for her stupidity. Once again her pride had gotten her into trouble.

She felt the wagon jostle as Mr. Johansson opened the jockey box. He said, I'm getting the salve. We'll puncture the blisters and then wrap them in bandage strips.

Barely holding back tears, Violet resigned herself to the forthcoming pain and humiliation.

The walk to Council Grove was a short distance from the campsite and TJ was happy to leave the widow and her daughter. When he'd started caring for her feet, she had caustically told him that she didn't want his help and grabbed the salve and needle from his hands. Frustrated, but appearing indifferent, he'd shrugged and said he was headed toward town and asked if she needed anything. She'd replied that she would go there on the morrow to take care of her own needs.

TJ had shaken his head and thought, Good luck. She'd be lucky if she could stand, let alone walk. He'd met some stubborn people in his life, but the widow outshined them all.

He entered town with his mare and scanned both sides of the dusty road for specifically two buildings—the general store and the saloon—in that order. The way he figured it, he'd visit the store first to stock up on more bacon, coffee, and beans. He and the widow were well supplied with everything else. After that he would return to the wagon with the goods and check on Miz Hailey, even though she'd sworn she could take care of herself. Finally, he'd visit the saloon for a friendly game of poker and local gossip.

He headed toward the general store with the foreboding name of Last Chance, and after making his purchases and loading them into packs on his horse, started back to his wagon. When he reached the edge of town the smell of freshly baked bread waylaid him and he veered toward a restaurant named Hays House. Judging by the numerous horses, mules, and buckboards, the place served excellent food. TJ's stomach growled. Before leaving his campsite he'd started a fire and placed a pot of beans over it to warm, and then pulled out cornbread from the day before. He figured the widow could manage to feed herself and her child while he was gone. But now he imagined an apple pie to top off their meal.

Howdy, sir, called a plump, middle-aged and rosy-cheeked woman when he entered the establishment. I expect it'll be a few minutes before a table comes available.

Although a home-cooked meal sounded delicious, TJ wasn't so callous as to indulge himself while the widow and her child ate beans. He said, Do you serve apple pie?

Does a rooster crow, the jolly woman shot back.

TJ grinned. Every morning. I'd like a whole apple pie to go, please.

The woman was interrupted by a customer calling out for more biscuits, so she said to another woman, Sadie, get this cowboy a tin of pie. Returning her attention to TJ, she said, You can pay Sadie. TJ watched another rotund and buxom woman wrap a huge golden-crusted pie in brown paper and felt his mouth water.

When he left Hays House the sky was just beginning to darken, so he picked up the pace in returning to his campsite. Skirting the other wagons he nodded to fellow travelers, but didn't stop to engage anyone in conversation. He was a solitary man and intended to stay that way. He approached his wagon and momentarily paused. The widow Hailey, with her profile to him, was standing beside the tailgate of his schooner and washing the few dishes she and her daughter had used, and her daughter, with the silly name of Punkin', was drying them. The widow's feet were covered in several pairs of socks and she was favoring her right foot. Her dark hair had been unbound and was now in a braid down her back that reached her waist. The woman was as tall as he and had a good enough figure. She wasn't pretty in a delicate sense, but her strong features were…he tried to think of a word…arresting. When he'd removed her shoes he'd noticed that her eyes were the color of fine, brown soil, the kind that could grow anything.

The widow turned as if she knew someone was watching her, and her arresting features immediately displayed disapproval. TJ sighed. Fate had landed him with a prudish, disapproving, haranguing woman. He nodded and went about tying his horse to the wagon after setting the pie on the tailgate. He then unloaded the packs on his animal. From the corner of his eye he could see the widow and her daughter eyeing the paper-covered pie with curiosity as its aroma wafted around them. He almost grinned.

After unloading his goods, he spied the remainder of beans in the pot over the fire and reached for a plate. He dished himself the last of them, reached for a cornbread in the pan beside the fire, and squatted while he ate. The weather was cool, but not uncomfortable.

Punkin' said, Mr. Johansson, what's in the paper?

Her mother immediately scolded, Punkin', it's none of our business. Go get the brush so I can untangle your hair.

TJ stood and finished his last bite of beans. It's okay, Miz Hailey. I bought something in town for all of us. He watched Punkin's eyes brighten as she said, Is it a surprise, 'cause I love surprises.

Miz Hailey looked like she was about to spit nails so he quickly took the few steps to the back of the wagon and unwrapped the pie. I hope you like apple pie, Punkin'.

The girl rushed to his side. Oh, I surely do.

The widow finally spoke. We wouldn't think of imposing on your hospitality by eating your pie, Mr. Johansson, and although her words were respectful, they were laced with annoyance.

Puffing a breath, TJ decided not to rise to the bait and said, Punkin', grab three plates and let's see if this pie is as good as it smells.

The child said enthusiastically, Yes, sir! and then glanced at her mother's